


Drabbles

by King_in_the_North



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-27 07:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_in_the_North/pseuds/King_in_the_North
Summary: Random one-shots





	1. Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Robb marries Margaery after winning the war

Robb woke up and looked wonderingly at the beautiful creature still sleeping in his arms. Everything had happened far too fast for him. Barely four months ago he was merely the new King of the Realm trying to get to grips with his new duties; now he was a married man. Not that he cared one jot.

 

Robb remembered fondly that it had all begun with a simple comment to Sansa that he thought the Rose of Highgarden beautiful. That had sent his sister into a frenzy of matchmaking, and through it all Robb found himself rapidly falling in love with the wonderfully intelligent and beautiful woman he was being set up with.

 

And last night had confirmed everything; he was hopelessly in love with Margaery. He would do anything for her. He could only hope that she felt the same. Yes, she had agreed to the match without any complaint, but she had never given Robb any indication about how she felt. Was it possible her intentions had merely been political?

 

He tucked a lock of hair lovingly behind her ear, doubt leaving him for one precious moment. She was beautiful, funny, intelligent, stubborn, and unpredictable and he loved her; only her.

 

At last Robb became aware of a pair of eyes looking uncertainly up at him. All he wanted to do was kiss away the doubt.

 

"Good morning," was all he could think of to say.

 

"Good morning," replied Margaery politely. Robb wanted to scream from the formality of her tone.

 

"Is that all the greeting you give your husband?" asked Robb.

 

"How would my lord wish to be greeted?" asked Margaery, frowning.

 

"By his name, for a start," said Robb, perhaps a little too bluntly.

 

They lapsed into an unhealthy silence and Robb grew increasingly more desperate to find a way to break the awkward quiet; desperate for an idea, he started tickling her. Margaery screeched as strong fingers brushed over sensitive skin and found the most sensitive places.

 

"Robb, stop it," gasped Margaery between laughs. Robb merely laughed and redoubled his efforts.

 

A few moments later Robb found himself atop his wife, both breathing hard from laughing. Robb brushed the end of his nose against Margaery's and looked deep into her eyes. He said the first thing that came to his head. "I love you." His whisper was barely perceptible.

 

"What did you say?" asked Margaery.

 

Robb shifted so that he lay at Margaery's side, looking into her eyes. He tucked her hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. "Margaery, do you not love me, or will you not?"

 

Margaery looked long and hard into Robb's eyes. Could it be that she saw love and tenderness in this battle hardened man, for surely that was a sign of weakness? Then she looked deeper and saw that he was afraid; afraid that she could not love him. And then awoke in her a sudden desire to protect this man who would bare his soul to her, and she realized what she had felt all along. "You fool," she whispered, enfolding him in her arms "You complete and utter fool, Robb. How could I not love you?"

 

The only answer she received was the fire from her husband's lips as he kissed her. Margaery deepened the kiss and pulled Robb atop of her with surprisingly strong arms. Robb looked down at her with wonder in his eyes, silently seeking permission.

 

Then he bit back a groan as she guided him into her. Pleasure grew until Margaery thought that she could take no more and then she screamed as they both felt release.

 

Robb rested his sweat filmed forehead against hers. "I love you," he murmured.

 

"I love you too," she replied with a smile, and Robb knew that she meant it.

 

They lay there for some time, drinking in each other's presence, feeling their pulses slow, feeling their hearts beat as one. Then Robb chuckled quietly.

 

"What?" Margaery asked.

 

"You do realist that we will have to get up sometime soon?"

 

Margaery sighed contentedly. "Aye, but soon is not now. And until we absolutely have to get up I am quite content to lie here in your arms."

 

"Me too," whispered Robb sleepily.

 

And so they fell asleep in each other's arms, both secure in their new-found love. Neither cared that in a few hours someone would be banging on their door insisting that the King had duties to do.

 

At that moment, all that mattered was each other.


	2. Reminisce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb takes some time off at his Queen's insistence.

Standing amid the trees, I enjoy the silence save for the sighing wind and the twittering of a few birds, I feel the peace I have longed to regain. The sounds of the castle are muted here, and I enjoy the momentary seclusion I managed to find. I have missed this, riding out into the Wolfswood and enjoying the serenity it offers. My eyes, hungrily partake of the view, hoarding it up in my memory for when I must return

 

But the smile on my lips is not entirely for trees and land and sky. Long years past, when the realm was burdened by war, I remember meeting a maid-Queen escorted by my mother and an army in the middle of night. Until that time, I had held vague notions of eventually settling down in marriage with a wife from the North. I assumed that once the war was ended, my family restored, I could seek a partner at my leisure. Alas, things do not always go as expected. Despite the circumstances me met under, Margaery and I had fallen deeply in love with one another. In the end, nothing would keep us apart, though there were obstacles in our path.

 

Through the wonderful years I have spent with her, raising a fine family and knowing more love than I ever dared hope to enjoy, she has been a constant surprise to me. She waits and watches for those moments when she may ease my burden with a word or deed. It is largely to her I must credit my even standing here now, for it is not only at her suggestion but through her tireless efforts to prevent anything preventing it. Ever she knows what I need and will not rest until I have it. I cannot imagine that all wives are so indulgent of their husbands.

 

And still she remains a marvel to me. This is not a woman used to riding all day and camping each night in a tent. While our accommodations are more comfortable than what one might expect in the middle of the forest, they are far below her usual standard. Yet no complaint passes her lips. I want this and she will stand by me as she has for some 44 years. I see the amusement in her eyes, and know that my own behavior tickles her fancy, but she will not mock me. Tease, yes, when we are alone, but never mock.

 

I have gained new admiration for her, and I had not thought that possible at this point in our lives. She insists on overseeing the cookfire and meals, tipping food onto my plate with child-like enthusiasm. She is determined not just to come along for the ride, but to partake of the adventure. Our auburn and brown hair may be shot through with silver, but a fire of youth smolders in our souls. We are in the twilight of years, but still we can enjoy life, the more so for our being together.

 

No, she is not the wife I dreamt of in my youth. Not at all. She is infinitely better.


	3. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrcella Stark, Queen in the North, is seperated from her King

Myrcella sighed as she stared at the bedroom she and Robb had shared for only ten years. Her hair brushed her face as she wiped a tear from her eyes. Now was not the time to break down, although she wanted to so badly. She looked up again and gasped. Robb was sitting at his desk, ruffling his hair as he read some papers. At the sound of her gasp, he turned around and grinned at her. He called her name, then he faded away. His deep laughter echoed in the room. Myrcella stared, her face covered in tears. How she missed him! She dried her face, then sighed again. She was going to have to wash it again.

 

x-X-x

 

Myrcella and Rickard were both received with warm, strong hugs, Myrcella's a little tighter than Rickard's. She looked up into the face of dear Tommen and smiled a little, for the first time since Robb's tragic death. She had initiated this visit to King's Landing in hopes that it would make her feel better, because her mood was affecting Rickard and he did not need her grief on top of his other burdens. He was only eleven, and would need her guidance for another seven years before she could fully succumb to what she felt. So she steeled herself and smiled a little wider. Tommen was not fooled, but Rickard seemed a little less tight.

 

Later, Myrcella and Tommen walked together in the gardens she had loved so much in her youth. Myrcella was no longer smiling, and Tommen gently spoke, saying, "Sweet-sister, please don't grow bitter and let this grief overcome you. You are strong, I know that you can get over this. Rickard needs you. He will be a good and strong king someday, but it will be some time before he reaches that place where he can stand on his own. For his sake as well as your own, don't let this kill you. Hold on to life!" Myrcella looked away.

 

But when she prepared for bed that night, she repeated his words. She felt a little better. She could get over this, as long as she had something to live for. And she had plenty to live for. She had to make sure Robb's legacy was as great as he was.

 

x-X-x

 

"My lady, may I have this dance?" Myrcella looked at the nobleman in front of her with mild distaste. He had a reputation, and she did not want to find out whether it was rightfully earned or not, especially on this day. But he was high-ranking, and could have caused a fuss for Tommen, so she reluctantly accepted.

 

Indeed, no sooner had the dance started than he was moving closer than was proper, his hand on her back starting to drift. He whispered in her ear, "Surely you would like a man to warm your bed tonight." Myrcella paused, waiting. But then the realization hit her - Robb had been dead for six years now, he wasn't coming to rescue her. The thought made tears spring into her eyes and planted anger in her heart. Without thinking, she pulled away from the man and slapped him across the face. She yelled, "How dare you!" into his stunned face, then whirled around and stalked away.

 

Myrcella realized what she had done when she reached the edge of the dance floor and hesitated, glancing almost shyly at Tommen. She continued, however, when she saw the approval in his face.

 

Five minutes later, she dropped down on her bed and sighed, staring at her hands in her lap. Slapping that man had not given her as much satisfaction as watching Robb dispatching overeager men had.

 

x-X-x

 

Myrcella stared at the ocean, the companion of her youth. She was finally free. Free from her regency, free from the memories seeing Winterfell gave her. She never had to return there if she did not want to. But Myrcella knew she would have to go back eventually. Her son would get married someday and have children. He was going to be a wonderful king. She idly wondered if he would inherit the reverent gaze and love that the people gave for Robb.

 

The thought of Robb still sent a sharp pain through her, even a decade after his death. Today would have been their twentieth wedding anniversary. She watched a vision of a log being pulled out to sea through increasingly moist eyes. She felt like that log, being set adrift, with nothing to hold onto. She remember her brother's words a couple of years after Robb died. Tommen had said that she should not be bitter. He had told her to hold on to life, for Rickard's sake. Now Rickard did not need her. Nobody did anymore. She was Myrcella, dowager queen of the North, with no one to hold onto, no one to lavish all her love on anymore. Robb had been her anchor in hard times. Who would be her anchor now, in this the hardest of all times?

 

Myrcella shivered, then started when she realized that she was standing waist deep in the ocean. At first her instincts took over, and she took a couple of steps back. But then she stopped. She was so tired of fighting for life. Everyone would miss her, of course, but they would move on. She didn't think she could be strong like them, strong enough to move on despite Robb's absence. It had already been ten years, and she was still mourning! Why should she want to live in this grief for any longer?

 

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Robb standing in the waves in front of her. He reached out to her, a look of panic on his face, exclaiming, "No! Myrcella, live for me!" She blinked, then he was gone.

 

x-X-x

 

Myrcella walked through the silent streets of Winterfell with some trepidation. Ever since she had been caught in the ocean, sobbing, last year, she was never left alone. She appreciated everyone's concern, but the constant company wore on her. She needed to just breathe for a little while.

 

She grew introspective, and silently counted the lanterns she passed by. Why they were there, she did not know. It seemed such a waste of oil to have them lighted when no one was around. She would have to speak to Ro. . . Rickard. She stopped as sadness overwhelmed her. It had been nearly twelve years since his death. Surely she should have stopped expecting to see him around every corner by now. But she still longed to see him, and that thought made her bitter. She gave a low, hollow laugh as she realized that her brother's words of so many years ago had been in vain. Myrcella slowly collapsed in the middle of the street and began to sob.

 

x-X-x

 

_Myrcella awoke slowly to the familiar tickling of Robb's beard as he nuzzled at her neck, planting wake-up kisses along her throat, and she arched her neck to allow him easier access. Even after long years together, he had never tired of bringing her out of her slumber in this delightful manner, and she could not honestly say that she had ever tired of having him do so._

 

_On the rare occasions when he had been so exhausted that she had actually awakened first, she had often remained in bed and feigned sleep until he awoke, rather than deny him their early morning ritual. Even as the children had come, she would tend a crying child or nurse a baby, but return to bed long enough for him to make sure she was properly awake. He had been hesitant to disturb her some few mornings when he was due to leave early, and it was not necessary for her to rise with him, but she had insisted that he not leave her side until he had suitably bid her farewell. Sleep could be had another time._

 

_Often she wondered if other women were so fortunate as she, to remain so deeply in love with their husbands all the years of their married lives. It had always been a pleasure to wake beside him, even when his hair was tousled and unkempt, and his breath was smelly. Sometimes, when he had returned late, he had done minimal bathing before coming to bed and the odor emanating from him was robust, to say the least, but not once had she considered turning him from her bed. Not once had she wished to sleep anywhere but wrapped in his arms, curled against his warm body._

 

_They had slept together in fine bedchambers in the castles fit for kings, and in humble tents with only furs for their bedding. But, either place, or somewhere in between, as long as he held her, she was content._

 

_In their beds, they had known passion, quiet conversation, laughter, empathetic moments with an unwell partner, and even just the peaceful contentment of holding one another in silence. Within the walls of their bedchambers, the troubles of the realm were kept at bay for a time, and there was only the two of them and their love for one another. A love that could survive anything._

 

x-X-x

 

The next morning Rickard found his mother with a peaceful smile on her face, never to open her eyes again.


	4. Strange Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrcella notices some strange behaviour among some women.

She hadn't understood the women before, the ones who paced along the beaches of Blackwater Bay. They paced all day, between endless chores and countless deeds, between mending laundry and feeding children. From dawn to dusk, and sometimes by candlelight. During rain or shine, sleet or fog; these women could be seen. When she asked why they behaved this way the only response she received was "They are the wives of those at sea".

 

Myrcella thought this meant their husbands were dead, but she learned that they were living men and it only added to her puzzlement. If their men lived, why would these women pace as though on vigil for their lives.

 

When she moved to Winterfell at her grandfather's machination, to be King Robb's bride, she had been scared of having to live amongst the people her family had harmed so. But as time passed and the land settled down to enjoy the peace, she found the Northerners to be more welcoming than she deserved.

And even among these people she noticed that the strange behavior followed her; here women paced the gates of the castle. They walked by them, staring into the wilderness. Some seemed to pine into those cold, iron gates until they near withered away.

 

This time when she asked what it was that drove these women to such behavior Robb gave her an odd look.

 

Robb stared a long time into the dying fire and finally turned to his new wife, "When you love someone as they love, it consumes oneself. When your love is in danger, when they are away, when you have no way of talking to them just to ask if they are happy, it consumes you. These men may be out hunting, nothing near as dangerous as a military charge, but their wives worry nonetheless. They worry there is something amiss, even something small and unimportant, and they will be powerless to help it. Love consumes like no illness can."

 

Thinking on his words Myrcella furrowed her blonde brows at her husband, "Is love an illness then?"

 

At this, Robb laughed openly, "One without a cure that is oddly pleasurable to be afflicted with."

 

"But I have loved my family, never did I pace as those women pace."

 

Her husband kissed her hairline delicately, "I pray I never give you cause to pace, dearest…but nonetheless I fear you might one day pace on my behalf. It is a different breed, your love for me. I think you will find your worries increase."

 

"How do you know?"

 

"I was a brother first; the love I have for my family is fierce and violent. The love I have for you cuts me to the core. Never do I worry if my siblings have a pouted lip or a furrowed brow; with you these concerns eat at me."

 

Myrcella shrugged him off; she knew that she loved Robb differently than the rest of her family but she did not see herself as one of those women who walked along walls without purpose. She was strong, a princess, a ruler of nations. She was the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, now Five, and was to be Queen and Mother to a new dynasty in a kingdom far from her home, removed from all she knew.

 

But when Robb left to hunt wildlings with his men, she paced the gates daily. And when he went to quell the Ironborn Uprising with her Grandfather, she was consumed by thoughts of him. She kept walking until she saw his banner in the horizon and even then her heart would not settle, slowing down only when she was safely ensconced within his arms and he had carried her into their home.


	5. Three Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three times Robb and Margaery met each other

They had met three times before they married. Once they had been mere children, the second they were in the bloom of youth and the third…the third encounter was the darkest and lightest of them all.

 

When he was eleven, Robb came to accompany his father Lord Eddard Stark to Highgarden, capital of the Reach. His father had come at the summons of his friend King Robert along with other Lord Paramounts to act as witness while he received fealty from Lord Mace Tyrell. At eleven, Robb was filled with boundless energy and had convinced his father to take him along on his journey.

 

As his father went with the other lords to meet with the king, Robb went to explore the beautiful castle. Fate was made the moment Robb crossed the threshold of Highgarden. Robb wandered about the halls of the magnificent palace. Everything was gilded in silver or gold with emblems of flowering roses. He supposed it was all the greenery and flowers that made this palace seem like such a peaceful place, hidden away from the ugliness of the world. Robb breathed freely, breathing in the air saturated with the smell of flowers, he felt calm overtake him. Highgarden was alive with beautiful gardens and serene ponds, there was always the whisper of the Mander's waves reaching his ears.

 

While walking through the castle he heard the most beautiful music, it entranced him so that he followed it down many corridors and listened outside the door it came from for a goodly time. After years, it seemed, he heard another sound accompany the harp song…crying. Quiet crying. It disturbed him enough that he unceremoniously pushed open the door he'd been listening at to investigate the mournful noise. Inside the room sat a tiny brown-haired girl in a silver-green gown that spread out around her. She could have been one of the marvelous carvings in the walls, to Robb's eyes, she was so delicate and flawless she did not look like a human child.

 

The girl was startled at his entrance and stopped playing her harp to stare at him, in the same heartbeat her eyes dried up and in her stillness she truly did look like a statue carved by the greatest craftsmen. He did not apologize for intruding, but rather watched her in silence, in awe, for the children up North looked nothing like her. After a moment the girl asked for his name in a voice like a tiny bell, and gave her own for good faith. He knew this must be the youngest child of Lord Mace. She could not have been much older then his own sister, but she had an air about her that seemed to separate her from anyone he had ever met.

 

Robb complimented her on her music and she resumed playing for him, thus was the rest of their day spent. It was not until the next day that she revealed why she had been crying. Margaery told him how her mother had died the previous month and Robb found himself, silently providing her company and any comfort he could provide.

 

After a while, in quiet contemplation Margaery said, "I shall never be kissed."

 

"And why shan't you?" Robb was old enough not to recoil from the word 'kiss' any more.

 

"I will never love a man, or let any man love me. Too many people get hurt when they love. I don't ever want my heart to hurt again like it did when my mother died."

 

Considering this for a moment Robb said, "You need not love someone to kiss them…though I think it must help."

 

"You don't?"

 

"No."

 

Margaery sat with her pink cheeked face in pudgy hands and thought hard on Robb's words, her brow wrinkled with the effort.

 

"How do you know?" She eyed him wearily.

 

"I don't."

 

"Then why do you think that?"

 

Robb thought on how to explain the situation to the young girl but could not gather words. Failing to find the words to convey his thoughts, Robb finally decided action was better than words. With the shamelessness of youth he leaned in and kissed Margaery.

 

Instead of throwing a fit or making a face at him, Margaery gave a slight smile and said, "You might be right about kissing."

 

Though Margaery was the same age as his sister, Robb found the difference less obvious and missed his friend when they left a few days later. Many years went by and Robb kissed many more girls, though sometimes the memory of his first kiss at Highgarden would arise and distract him. He thought that it was strange that he now put so much thought into what to say to girls to get them to kiss him, but when he was eleven the most ridiculous of topics worked.

 

The next time he came to Highgarden with his father he was eighteen. His Lord father had come to discuss trade arrangements with Lord Mace, the North was in need of food supplies in order to prepare for the coming Winter and in return Highgarden would get the best Ironwood harvested from their woods. 

 

Once more Robb was left to explore the palace at his leisure. Once more he was struck by the beauty of the place, a different brand of beauty then his home. Wandering, he wondered how the young Tyrell princess had changed in the last seven years, he wondered how she looked now, wondered if she remembered him.

 

When he heard singing on a balcony he followed it, hoping that he might stumble upon Margaery as he had years ago. As luck would have it, he found Margaery, her brown curls falling down her back, dressed in yet another magnificent green gown.

 

"My lady, forgive me, I always seem to intrude on you making music." Robb hoped that Margaery would remember him, when she turned and saw his face it was clear that she did for she exclaimed his name.

 

She looked very different from the little girl he had kissed long ago. She was a burgeoning beauty, her brown hair and doe eyes, her flawless skin, her perfect figure. He could tell she would break many hearts. They spent the remainder of the day recalling his last visit…at least Margaery was talking. Once more Robb took to studying her, every moment which passed made him wish more powerfully that he had saved kissing her for this meeting.

 

The day turned into night when Margaery finally came to that kiss.

 

"I must say, milord, you made quite the impression. I don't quite know why I let you kiss me but I can say that when the stable boy tried to kiss me a month later I hit him in the face."

 

He laughed with her, trying to picture this demure, fragile looking creature hitting anyone in the face with much success.

 

"I suppose now you don't hit men in the face for trying to kiss you."

 

Margaery gave him a devious smile and leaned in to whisper, "No, the secret is to let my brothers do it for me, it works so much better."

 

With her face a few inches from his, he became painfully aware of how beautiful she was and said, "If that is your play I best warn you that you should call them…now."

 

With that Robb claimed his second kiss from the princess of Highgarden. Much to his amusement, she neither summoned her brothers or hit him in the face. Instead she kissed him in return. The next few days were a whirlwind of disappearing into niches where they could spend a few moments of undisturbed peace and both were broken hearted when it came time for the Northern party to leave for home.

 

During the ride back Robb thought about mentioning Margaery to his father and asked if he thought it was plausible for him to marry her? Although his own mother was from the South, she was not from as far south as Margaery was. It hurt Robb's heart to think that he would not be able to provide the comforts Margaery deserved. Maybe in a few years once relations between the Reach and the North flourished from the trade, he would mention it to his parents.

 

However the next few years were not how Robb had pictured it to be. It all started with his brother crippled, Lord Eddard executed as traitor to the crown, his dear sisters imprisoned in King's Landing and war tore through the realm and Robb found himself proclaimed " King in the North". After joining forces with the Baratheon brothers and the combined armies of the North, the Stormlands, the Riverlands and the Vale, the Lannister usurpation of the crown was finally brought down with the Lannisters executed except Tyrion, Myrcella and Tommen who were sent back to Casterly Rock.

 

It was very late at night and Robb found himself taking a walk through the castle grounds. He had found his sister healthy but she was no longer the sweet faced girl who would order him to get her new dresses and sweets. She had faced her own hardships within the Lannister's clutches. However she was safe now and Robb would ensure she faced no harm any longer. His other sister was still missing and men had been sent out to every corner of the Realm to look for any news of her.

 

As he kept walking through the garden, he came across a scene that froze his feet. He saw a brown haired woman in a gleaming silver gown standing under the moonlight. He was so overcome by hope, so surprised; he said her name aloud without stopping to think if it was really her and scared her half to death.

 

When she saw who it was that called her name, Margaery dried her tears and flung herself into Robb's arms. They walked into the gardens speaking at length. She revealed that her father had brought her to King's Landing with plans of betrothing her to Joffrey. However news of the mighty army coming for the Lannisters had convinced Olenna Tyrell to stall her son, enough time for the betrothal to have never come to be. Margaery wept anew at finally having Robb back with her. She had missed him mightily during the troubling times. 

 

Drawing her close, he tried to make her stop crying for he could not bear her tears, they wrenched at his heart. He was aware of the chaos that had surrounded him in the past years…and yet this night for one moment as he held her seemed perfectly still. He recalled that he had always felt this sense of peace with her, that she was the face in dreams that knew no terror or pain, and he said to her, "For all the misery that has occurred to make me king, something good has come of it. When last I left you I wanted to marry you. Now this unbidden crown shall give me what I most desire: to take you as my bride. I am a king, and I think it is beyond doubt that a crown will satisfy your family but I ask you, you Margaery if you would marry me. With you I knew some brief peace and I would gladly know that peace with you for the rest of my life."

 

Margaery answered him with a kiss that left no doubt as to her answer. Dawn was still a few hours away and the couple wandered through the Red Keep, hiding in dark niches occasionally as though they were teenagers again. 

 

They found themselves outside Robb's room and he debated for a breath on what to do. However Margaery just smiled at his apprehensive look and walked in holding tightly onto his hand. Come morning the King sat staring at this figure of his lover and he knew deep within, no matter the hardships he face in the future as long as he had Margaery, he would find peace even in the darkest of times.


End file.
